


Inopportune

by olivejuice28



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Break Up, EWE, Engagement, F/M, Fluff, HEA, Minor canon divergence, Open Ending, Pining, Unrequited Love, Wedding, past relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26855770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivejuice28/pseuds/olivejuice28
Summary: Hermione has moved on and found happiness with another, or so she thought.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 21
Kudos: 65





	Inopportune

A small sigh escaped her lips as she glanced down at the layers of ivory tulle and lace that billowed around her like a designer cloud. She heard the door open behind her but didn’t look up as she played with the way the fabric flowed in waves towards the floor.

“What do you think?” she asked, still entirely focused on the gown.

“I think you’re stunning.”

The low, quiet voice that answered was not the one she’d been expecting, and she whipped her head up to find a pair of slate-grey eyes peering at her in the reflection of the three-way mirror she stood before.

Hands trembling, she met that painfully familiar stare and commanded her heart to slow down and her breaths to even out. It was no use.

“Draco,” his name was a choked sound that emerged through her too-tight throat and she could already feel tears burning in the corners of her wide, amber eyes.

He took a step away from the door as he closed it softly behind him, his intense gaze never leaving hers. He took a second step towards her, and shifted slightly to one side so she could see almost the entire left half of his body in the mirror. He shoved his hands in his pockets - she knew it was an attempt to look casual, but the stiffness of his shoulders and the clenching of his jaw told another story.

She remained frozen on the spot, unsure of what to say or do, afraid of moving at all and diverting him from whatever purpose had brought him here, to this moment, to her. In the silence that pressed more heavily with each passing second, she allowed herself to drink him in: the soft platinum locks that hung artfully over one eye, the strong set of his jaw, the lean but muscled build not at all hidden by his perfectly-tailored suit.

“So, it’s true then,” he finally breathed, and it was a statement, not a question. Her eyes drifted back up to his face and she saw a flicker of resignation there before his trademark mask of calm stoicism returned.

“Well... I... What...” she stumbled over her words in an attempt to make sense of his comment; his presence. Closing her eyes and willing herself to remain calm, she tried again, “Why are you here?” She opened her eyes and fixed him with a look that brooked no argument. “The truth, Draco.”

He huffed a wry laugh and shook his head, looking down at the floor as he did so. He stared at the worn carpet beneath his polished wingtips as if somehow the answer might appear there, before heaving a deep sigh and saying, “The truth, Granger? The honest-to-Salazar truth?” He glanced up again to find her nodding, her eyes now filled with unshed tears as she whispered brokenly.

“Please.”

He straightened up then and stared down her reflection in the glass they were both still facing. His eyes traveled the length of her; from her silken curls to the glittering train stretched out on the floor and back up again. Visibly steeling himself, he forged ahead.

“The truth is, I can’t stand it. I can’t stand the idea of you marrying Weasley. Of you marrying anyone, really, and I had to come and see you and find out for myself... to know if...” but it seemed he’d run out of words or courage because he shrugged and went back to glaring at the floor.

“To know what, Draco?” Her voice was gentle, prodding, patient even, though her heart was hammering against her ribs and her palms were sweaty against the delicate fabric. She knew how difficult this sort of thing was for him. It was a struggle they’d faced all too often. A battle they’d eventually lost.

“Did we ever have a chance?” He looked at her with pleading in his silver stare and she felt her heart crack all over again for the wizard standing so close, yet still out of reach.

“You tell me,” she challenged him, not willing to simply tell him what he wanted to hear. “You knew exactly how I felt - I never held anything back from you - _you’re_ the one who ended it and disappeared. It’s been _years_ , Draco. What was I supposed to do?”

“I know… I know… I walked away. And I have regretted that decision every day since. There have been so many... it was never the right time... I didn’t think...” All pretense dropped as he started pacing behind her, one hand still stuffed in his pocket the other rubbing the back of his neck absently.

“The right time? There’s no such thing, you know that,” she stated flatly, trying to keep her frustration and hurt at bay. She wanted to hear what he had to say; needed to hear it; but he had no idea what a complete wreck she had been after he left. She had waited for _so long_ before finally deciding that yes, she could move on and find at least some semblance of happiness with another. There was still a stubborn piece of her reluctant heart that belonged to the pale blonde, however, no matter how hard she’d tried to fill it with other people or activities or endeavors.

“You’re right. You’re absolutely right. But it doesn’t change the fact that it was bloody well near impossible at certain points,” his speech was coming in forceful bursts as he continued to wear a manic path on the rug. “First, my father would have killed me. Then, Voldemort would have killed _you_. Then you were the Golden War Hero and I was the disgraced Death Eater. Even once the wizarding world decided to tolerate the Malfoy name again, I wasn’t good enough for you... I’m still not.” He almost seemed to be talking to himself, but she knew he intended her to hear every bit of his monologue, and each sentiment chipped away at her resolve piece by piece.

“I have never cared what anyone else thought,” she interjected in a quiet voice but he held up a hand to stop her.

“I know, Granger _, I know_. It was me. It’s all on me. And this,” he gestured between the two of them, indicating what was happening at that moment, “is all on me, too.” He finally stopped pacing and came around to stand in front of her, grasping her hands in his and staring at her with what could only be described as longing and adoration. “I love you, Hermione. I have loved for longer than I probably even realize, and I know that just like all those others, this is still not the right time, but I have never claimed to be anything other than a selfish bastard, and I’m not about to change now.”

His grip on her trembling fingers tightened and he swallowed thickly as tears began making their way down her face, “Tell me to go, and I will, and I’ll never bother you again. Tell me you feel nothing for me, and this will be the last time you have to tolerate my presence.” He let go of her hands only to cup her face between his palms, using his thumbs to wipe away her tears, a small, crooked smile making its way across his face, “But tell me to stay and I promise, I will never leave your side again. I will spend the rest of my life showing you how incredibly, overwhelmingly in love with you I am.”

She took a shuddering breath and blinked once, freeing two more tears to fall and he wiped those away as well before leaning in to press his lips to hers in a kiss that made her forget everything else: how devastated she’d been when he’d left, how angry when he’d stayed away, how miserable without him, how determined to put herself back together, how desperate to fill the void his departure created, and how certain she was that nothing else would never be enough.

All she knew was _this_. The fire he stoked in her core and the way every fiber of her being sang to be reunited with him. The sense of balance that returned after years of feeling off-kilter. The safety and comfort that wrapped around her just as his arms did, and the fierce desire to never be parted from him ever again. She returned his kiss with everything in her, carding her fingers through his hair as tears continued to cascade down her face. She took a step towards him, fisting the front of his shirt, trying to get closer, and stumbled as the voluminous skirt got in her way. His hand flew out to brace against the wall in an attempt to keep them from falling, and though he succeeded, he knocked a mirror panel back as well. The sudden noise caused them to jump apart, wide eyed and breathless, staring at each other with a myriad of unanswered questions swirling in the air between them.

The door to the dressing room opened and they turned to find a pretty witch staring at them with concern, her eyes darting between their flushed faces and disheveled appearance.

Hermione smoothed the fabric around her waist and met the other woman’s gaze with a smile, “You know what, Daphne? I don’t think I’m going to need a wedding dress.” She glanced shyly at the handsome wizard whose face, for once, was an open book containing hope and promise and love. He cocked his head and gave her a lopsided grin and a wink before she looked back at the shop owner, “At least, not today.”

**Author's Note:**

> Not entirely sure where this one came from. A tiny idea popped into my head the other day, and here's the result :) It's a little different from most of my others, and I was going for a bit of a surprise with the ending (hope I achieved it!). Thanks so much for reading - would love for you to check out my other pieces! <3


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